#✎ pool house·˚ ༘

[overflowingteacupoflove]

Normally Chris is soft, he's sweet. He'd never ever do anything to hurt you in any way, shape, or form. But something in him snapped today. Maybe it was the way you were begging him to just be a little rough, clutching his arms while wearing nothing but a too-big t-shirt. Maybe it was the "please"'s and "I can take it"'s you whined while swinging a leg up to straddle him.

All he knows is that he snapped.

Now you're a mess ontop of him. Whining and holding onto his biceps with your back digging into the desk top. He hadn't bothered to go to his bed, deciding to fuck you raw in his gaming chair.

"C'mon, baby, whos fucking you, huh?" He asks, grabbing your chin and tilting it down so you're looking at him. "Chris." You whine, not even answering his question, just pleading for nothing in particular.

He finds that he likes that a little bit more than he should, and you find out too by a particularly low groan that comes from his throat as he thrusts up into you again.

"Yeah, Chris is fucking you, huh?" You whine, your head falling onto his chest. "Chris is fucking you so good you cant even answer him." A breathy laugh comes from his lips as your nails dig into his biceps in agreement.

a fear this is all I have to offer to the people who wanted this and to the people that write smut, im literally embarrassed

[happy74827]

You Must Be Haunting Me

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Even after a year, you’re still haunted by the Ice Truck Killer.

WC: 2643

Category: Angst, No Comfort {TW: Not Proof Read 😞}

I did another one!! Are you guys proud of me? 🥹

So, rewatching the season, I forgot how sassy he was so I wanted to really show off that aspect in this one. Then my patience was over it, so the ending is just kinda… bland. But it’s okay because it’s Brian (he seriously needs more attention FOR REAL).

Anyway, for those 14 Brian fans… this one’s for you 🫶

『••✎••』

The dark circles beneath your eyes. The way you can barely stand on your feet, your body so exhausted that you can hardly lift a finger to defend yourself. You’re like a walking corpse, and he's the one responsible for putting you in this state.

It started one year ago. One year ago, you moved to Miami and became the victim of a killer. It wasn't until his brother came along and put him six feet under that you began to heal and get back into the normal, everyday routine. But then he showed up.

It was one of those nights where you’d randomly get a jolt in your sleep. You sat up straight, the sheets pooling at your hips as you looked around the room. Your breathing was shallow, and sweat was beading on your brow. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you slowly laid back down.

"You sleep soundly."

His voice caused your heart to stop. You knew who it was, the same man who had terrorized you, who made your life a living hell. Slowly, you turned to your side, staring wide-eyed at the dark figure at the end of your bed. Your hands began to shake and tremble as you reached for the lamp on your nightstand.

"Oh, don't bother."

In an instant, with the sound of fingers snapping, the lamp's light went out. You could hear a chuckle coming from the intruder, and you were paralyzed, afraid to make a move.

I mean, it couldn’t be him, right? It was just some sick joke. He was dead. He couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t.

But, god, he looked the exact same. The curly dark hair, the pale skin. He was just a silhouette in the darkness of your room, and yet, you could tell that the grin he wore was the same grin that he had on the day you met him.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost." He mused, moving closer towards you. His weight caused the bed to dip slightly, and you could feel the fear begin to take over your body. "Should I start saying boo?"

Your throat was dry, and you couldn’t speak; all you could do was stare at him, frozen in place. He lowered his head in amusement and chuckled, leaving his lips once more.

It was when his eyes weren’t on you that broke you out of your daze. You shot up from the bed, nearly tumbling over yourself as you ran to the dresser, grabbing the nearest thing you could find and throwing it at him. It was a vase, one that held a bouquet of flowers, that shattered against the wall, causing him to look up.

"…Was that supposed to scare me?" He asked, raising a brow as he tilted his head, an almost bored expression on his face. "You’ve got the aim of a blind man."

"Get out of my house!"

The sound of your own voice startled you. Anger wasn’t necessarily the emotion you normally felt, but now it was the only thing that was running through you. Anger and adrenaline.

He stood from the bed, taking a step closer to you, the broken glass crunching beneath his feet. You didn’t care; you took a step back, holding your hand out as if it would stop him from coming any closer.

"Get away from me, you psycho."

He laughed. He actually fucking laughed.

"Psycho?" He repeated, "That’s a new one."

"Stay back." You hissed, feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

He took another step.

"Don't touch me!"

Another. He was only inches away from you now, and the thought of him being so close made you want to vomit.

The annoyed sigh he let out when he noticed your hand trembling was enough to set you off. You didn’t think twice; the only thought in your mind was to get him out, and so you did.

When he was walking towards you, your mind remembered the small kitchen knife that you left on the counter. Quickly, you ran past him, dodging his hands as he reached out to grab you, and grabbing the knife, and in one quick motion, you turned and stabbed him.

"That’s not going to—"

It went right through his chest. He stared down at the knife, then up at you, with that all-knowing expression.

He sighed again, "…work."

What the fuck?

In the next moment, he vanished, and the knife fell to the ground, the clattering against the linoleum floor echoing through the house.

For a minute, you thought it was a dream. That is, until he appeared in the chair beside you, his arms crossed, his eyes boring holes into your face.

"You can’t hurt me." He said, his tone flat, his eyes narrowed, "I can’t either. Not physically, anyhow."

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"I can fuck you up, though." He continued, "In many ways. Mentally, emotionally… The possibilities are endless."

"What the hell is this?" You questioned, your brows furrowing, "Are you some kind of— of, what, demented Casper?"

His expression was unreadable, but then again, he always had that look on his face.

"Casper? Wow, seriously? You remind me why I don't watch movies." He groaned, shaking his head.

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you won't like my answer."

"Try me."

"You’ve lost it." He shrugged, "Completely off the hinges, you know? And that's saying something, considering who you’re talking to."

"I don't—"

"Have a mental disorder."

"What?"

"That's what it's called. When someone has delusions of grandeur, where they think someone is after them. Someone, of course, meaning me." He explained, a grin spreading across his lips. "But, no. It's all in your head. Just. Like. Me."

The words sank in, and you stared down at the floor, your mind processing everything he was telling you.

"No, I'm not crazy." You murmured, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

"You're not? Well, how else would you explain me being here?" He asked, cocking a brow, "I’m dead, remember? My dear brother made sure of that."

"I—"

"And you know damn well I’d never wear this out of the office. It's not exactly the most flattering."

It was then you noticed what he was wearing.

He had his lab coat on. His entire outfit was the same thing he wore the day he met you. You were with Debra to question him about Tucci’s recovery and, god, if he didn't make the biggest impression.

It was pretty hard not to like him when he was giving one of his patients, a little boy, a lollipop from his jar and making a joke.

You remember telling Deb, 'What a nice guy'.

Oh, the irony. The fucking irony.

"What a nice guy." You found yourself repeating before looking him up and down, your lips curling in disgust. "You were just fucking with me the whole time, weren't you?"

He shrugged, "What's it matter now? I'm dead."

"It matters to me."

"Would you like me to apologize? To beg for your forgiveness?" He asked, a mocking tone in his voice, "Would that make you feel better?"

You were silent.

"Wouldn’t do anything." He continued, "And it certainly wouldn't change a thing. But, hey! By all means, you go right ahead and play pretend. Maybe then, you'll sleep better at night."

You scoffed. He was such a piece of shit.

"How much are you gonna torture me, huh?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, "Torture me like you did, Debra? Like your brother? Are you just going to follow me around like a bad smell? Make my life a living hell, like you did theirs?"

"I didn't torture him." He stated, a hint of malice in his tone, "He's my brother."

"Like that means shit."

"He was just like me. A lot like me, in fact." He went on, his eyes flickering over to you. "I could see myself in him."

"Well, he killed you." You countered, "That doesn't really seem like brotherly love."

"He did what he had to." He shrugged, "That Harry… he was a real piece of work, wasn't he?"

You were quiet again.

"And Debra?"

"A pain in my ass. Always sticking her nose in places where it doesn't belong." He replied, shaking his head. "But, then again, that was her job, wasn't it?"

"You broke her. You tore her apart." You snapped, the memories of the past year filling your mind. "She really loved you. She really did."

"I know."

"You don't care."

"Not at all." He said, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing. "Not in the slightest."

"Fuck you."

He laughed, his laughter filling the room before it faded out, leaving the both of you in a heavy silence.

He had a different aura around him this time. It might be the aura of a dead man, a hallucination. But he still felt so… present. Even his mannerisms were the same—the way he moved his hands, the way he tilted his head. His eyes still had that glint of mischief. It was so real.

So. Fucking. Real.

"If your just in my head, why can’t I just kick you out?" You asked, finally breaking the silence, "Make you go away."

"Because, even after a year, I still affect you." He answered, his voice low. "Even though you try to ignore it and push the memories back, I’ll always be there. In the back of your mind."

"Why couldn’t you be my dead childhood dog or something? Why do you have to be some crazy serial killer that ruined my life?" You said, shaking your head.

"I'm not boring."

"Neither was my childhood dog."

"Rocky didn't have a single interesting thing about him. All he did was drool and lick himself." He countered, his lips pursing.

"How the hell do you know— oh, fuck this. Just go away." You groaned, rubbing your temples.

He didn't respond, and the room was quiet. For a second, you thought he actually listened. Then, you heard him hum.

"Hm. No."

"Jesus Christ."

"Now, that's really a name I haven't heard in a while."

This was how it became. For months, you would have these random conversations with him, and no matter how much you tried, he would never leave. Everywhere you went, he was there.

Work.

Shopping.

Even at the damn bar.

You had no idea what this was. You didn't know if this was a side effect of the trauma you went through. Whether it was your mind trying to cope or just the result of a lack of sleep. Whatever it was, it was draining the life out of you.

You felt like a shell. Your coworkers knew something was wrong. The way your eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark circles, the slump in your shoulders.

They were concerned—except Debra. She was too concerned about the case to pay attention to anyone else.

You weren't really sure what day it was. Or month. Time was going by, and you were slowly dying mentally, as he put it.

"Is this because I can't sleep?" You asked him one night, staring at the ceiling, your voice hoarse, "Because I can't go to sleep without seeing your face? Or is it because I don't have the energy to live?"

"I would say both."

You groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not what you did." He replied, his eyes locked on yours, "It's what I did."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The two of you sat there in silence before he cleared his throat.

"How are things with my favorite bloodhound?" He asked a curious tone in his voice. "Is he still sleeping with that cute blonde, or did he wise up and break it off?"

"Rita. Her name is Rita." You corrected him, shaking your head, "She’s his girlfriend, not his flavor of the week."

"Hm."

"And, for your information, they're fine. Great, actually."

"How disappointing." He scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He genuinely looked upset, which caused a snicker to leave your lips. "What's so funny?"

"You are." You replied, looking over at him, "You're so pathetic."

He blinked.

"You're a dead man. Dead. How can you be disappointed about his love life?"

"I'm his older brother." He stated, his jaw tightening, "I want what's best for him."

"Really? Then why aren't you in his brain, harassing him?" You questioned, a smile coming onto your face, "You know what? I bet he's sleeping great. He doesn't have to deal with this. Not like I do."

"I would love to give him a good old-fashioned night terror. It'd be easy, too. He's not exactly the most stable." He replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But his brain is too messy. He's always been that way."

"I guess he takes after his brother."

"He took after our father. The one thing I did was make him forget about it." He retorted, his tone harsh, "Notice how he never talks about the old man? Or the past? Now it’s only me. That's because of me. I took him from that shitty childhood. I gave him a better life. A better everything. I could’ve given him the world."

You were quiet.

"Instead, he killed me." He spat, the venom in his voice obvious. "Because of that stupid, half-witted sailor mouth."

You honestly had to give your brain props for this one. He was too realistic. He was too Brian.

"You know what?" You began, sitting up, "I really am feeling a lobotomy."

At that, he actually laughed. Now that… that was different from the chuckles and snickers, this was a full laugh, something you haven't heard since you met him. It was loud, it was obnoxious, and it was the only thing you could hear.

It was the last thing you heard before the most amazing thing happened.

You fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke up to a pounding on your door and an annoying ringing. Groaning, you pulled the pillow over your head, hoping the noises would disappear. Instead, they only got louder, and you had no choice but to get up.

"Coming, coming!" You shouted, shuffling out of the bedroom and towards the door, the banging and the ringing still going on.

When you opened the door, you saw Debra.

"Good. You're up." She greeted, her expression annoyed. "Where were you last night?"

"Sleeping. What are you, my mom?"

"I called you. I even sent someone by your house. You weren't here." She stated, a slight bite in her voice, "And I'm not your mom, but if I were, I'd spank you."

"For what?"

"We have a meeting in five minutes." She said, checking her watch, "Get dressed. I'm waiting."

"Shit."

In record time, you threw on some jeans and a shirt, and within the next three minutes, you were out the door and in the car with Debra.

But as she pulled out of the driveway, he appeared directly in front of her.

"Hey, watch—"

But he only winked at you before disappearing. And at the time, you found it nothing but him being a prick. But, later on, you would realize.

This was the last time you would ever see him.

A month went by. And another. And another.

Then, a year.

The visions of the past still came. The thoughts of him were still there. The memories were still fresh. And sometimes, if you listened closely, you could still hear that laugh.

But you weren’t afraid anymore. You had no reason to be. And so, you moved on. You continued living because that's what he would've hated. And that made you smile.

Because, now, it wasn't him haunting you.

It was you haunting him.

[sofiascripts]

how izuku gets the girl! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

teacher midoriya x reader

izuku midoriya is determined to mend the growing rift between you, desperate to prove how much you mean to him. with the support of his friends, he embarks on a series of grand gestures, each one more elaborate than the last. from awkwardly coordinated serenades to overly complicated surprise plans, his well-intentioned efforts keep falling short. despite their best attempts to help, his friends’ involvement only adds to the chaos. as midoriya stumbles through each attempt, sinking deeper into a mess of his own making, the question remains: will his efforts be enough to win you back?

✎ wc: 8,409... got a lil carried away guys

⤑ tw: ik eri isnt in hs yet but i didnt want to make any oc’s </3 als did not proofread, might proofread tmr morning tho so ;d also for the ending i sweat there was a reason i put him in there and had him say that but i FORGET FUCK so pretend its just cute and makes sense...characters may be ooc btw...

⤑ guess whos BACK (me) time to update that band one and this is inspired by how you get the girl by taylor swift! and gsonys izuku art on insta ;p

.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.

you were getting ready for bed, the house calm and quiet after a long day. a sudden, urgent knock on the front door startled you, pulling you from your relaxed state. glancing at the clock, you noted the late hour—unexpected visitors were rare at this time.

slipping on a robe, you shuffled to the door, wondering who it could be. as you opened it, your eyes widened in surprise. standing on your doorstep was midoriya, drenched from head to toe. his dress shirt clung to him, almost transparent from the rain, and water pooled at his feet, creating a small puddle on your porch. leaves and twigs were tangled in his usually neat green curls, and some wet strands were stuck to his forehead. his tie hung crookedly, and his dress pants were plastered to his legs, making him look like he had been caught in a torrential downpour.

each step he took made a squelching sound from his soaked socks, adding to the awkwardness of the moment. his breathing was uneven, each inhale a shaky gasp from his run. normally so composed, he now appeared as a soaking, disheveled mess, which was both surprising and oddly endearing.

you couldn’t help but stare, trying to reconcile this soaked figure with the usually neat and controlled midoriya you knew. he raised a trembling hand, his fingers shaking from the cold, and his knock came with an unsteady rhythm.

“izuku? are you insane?” you asked, bewildered.

midoriya, catching his breath, looked at you with a mix of determination and embarrassment. “it’s been a long six weeks,” he stammered. “i was too afraid to tell you what i wanted.”

.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.

4 weeks earlier.

midoriya sat in the faculty room, a stack of paperwork spread out in front of him. the late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, soft shadows across the room. the air was thick with the usual quiet that filled the space during the end of a school day. across from him, aizawa leaned back in his chair, adjusting his scarf with a mix of impatience and concern.

“you’ve got to be tougher on your students, midoriya,” aizawa said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of seriousness. “i’ve seen you let them off too easily. it’s not helping them grow.”

midoriya glanced up from his paperwork, a frown tugging at his brow. “i don’t think i’m being too easy,” he replied, “i'm just trying to create a supportive environment. they need to learn, but they also need to feel encouraged.” 

aizawa sighed, rolling his eyes slightly as he straightened in his chair. “you can be supportive without coddling them, midoriya. there’s a balance you need to find. letting them skate by on half efforts isn’t doing them any favors in the long run.”

midoriya bit his lip, mulling over aizawa’s words. before he could respond, the door to the faculty room suddenly burst open with a loud bang, startling both teachers. a group of students rushed in, their faces flushed with a mix of frustration and urgency. they barely stopped, practically tumbling into the room, completely ignoring the large no students allowed sign outside.

“midoriya-sensei, we need to talk!” one of the students blurted out, breathless, their words tumbling over each other in their haste. midoriya’s eyes widened as he recognized the group—some of his own students, including koda and eri. he glanced at aizawa, feeling a mix of embarrassment and concern as he began to sink into his seat, eyes drifting to the ceiling. he could feel aizawa’s silent stare, a reminder that maybe his softer approach wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped.

feeling the tense air from mr. aizawa, the students silently communicated with each other, deciding who should be the first to speak. “ms. y/l/n has been really tough on us during training,” eri spoke up, her voice tinged with concern. “we were hoping you could... calm her down or something?”

midoriya’s expression shifted, confusion evident. “calm her down? i didn’t even realize she was upset.”

aizawa raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “well, maybe you’re just too used to midoriya’s leniency. y/n is an excellent teacher, but she’s always had high standards. maybe you’re all just not used to it.”

as if on cue, the door to the faculty room creaked open again, and you walked in. your usual warmth seemed to fill the room, and you greeted everyone with your signature cheerfulness. “hello, everyone!” you called out, your voice bright and welcoming.

but the moment your gaze landed on midoriya, your expression shifted. the smile that had lit up your face moments before disappeared, replaced by a look of dismissiveness. “mr. midoriya” you greeted him curtly, your tone clipped and formal. there was no warmth, no friendliness—just a cold acknowledgment of his presence.

midoriya felt his heart drop. you didn’t linger in the room like you normally would, chatting with the other teachers or sharing a laugh. instead, you turned on your heel and walked out just as abruptly as you had entered, leaving the room in a stunned, almost eerie silence.

the students exchanged nervous glances, their eyes wide with surprise. a low murmur spread through the group as they tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

“okay, that was definitely weird,” one of the students finally said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in. “she’s usually so friendly with you, sensei.”

midoriya’s brow furrowed deeply as the pieces slowly began to fall into place in his mind. “yeah, that was strange,” he muttered under his breath, his voice quieter now as he stared at the door you’d just exited through. “she’s been distant lately, hasn’t she?” he continued, still muttering to himself, lost in thought. unconsciously, he reached up to rub the back of his neck, a habit of his when he was anxious. though he wasn’t speaking loudly, it was enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room.

the room grew quieter as the students slowly began to file out, their chatter subdued and filled with concerned whispers. but midoriya didn’t notice. he was too busy muttering quietly to himself, replaying each interaction with you in his mind, trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

aizawa narrowed his eyes as he watched midoriya. even he had to admit that your sudden shift in demeanor was odd. just as he was about to call out to midoriya, the younger hero suddenly stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“i’ve got to talk to her,” midoriya mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, but it was loud enough for aizawa to hear. aizawa’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. it wasn’t often he saw midoriya this shaken, especially over something non-hero related.

without waiting for a response, midoriya strode toward the door, his footsteps quick and determined. aizawa watched him go, releasing a quiet sigh as the door clicked shut behind him. the room was left in a contemplative silence, the weight of midoriya’s resolve lingering in the air.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨���୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

later that day, during lunch, midoriya gathered his courage and approached you as you sat alone at a corner table. he offered a hopeful smile, trying to bridge the growing gap between you.

“hey, y/l/n,” he began, his voice warm and sincere. “want to join me for lunch? it’s been a while, and i thought we could catch up.” he kept his tone light, hoping to ease whatever tension had built up between you.

you glanced up briefly, your expression guarded. the usual warmth that lit up your face when you saw him was gone, replaced with something distant. “no, thank you,” you muttered quietly, turning back to your meal, effectively cutting off the conversation. midoriya stood there for a moment, his smile faltering as your rejection hit harder than he’d anticipated.

from a nearby table, a group of students watched the exchange with bated breath. as soon as midoriya walked away, they quickly gathered around him, their concern obvious.

“what did you do?” eri asked, her voice laced with alarm.

midoriya ran a hand through his hair, his frustration and confusion evident. “i don’t know! i really don’t,” he replied, exasperated. “i thought we were on good terms. i didn’t mean to upset her.”

the students exchanged worried glances. “well, you’ve definitely done something,” koda said, crossing his arms. “you need to fix this.”

midoriya sighed, pulling out his phone to message his friends. as he walked away, his thoughts whirled with memories of your interactions over the past few weeks—every clipped response, every avoided glance, every time you’d left a room just as he’d entered. he replayed those moments over and over in his mind, trying to pinpoint when things had started going wrong—how had he not noticed something was off in the first place? when had it gotten this bad?

“was it something i said? or maybe something i didn’t say? did i miss something important?” he mumbled to himself, oblivious to the awkward stares he was receiving from the students nearby.

the students exchanged uneasy glances. they were used to midoriya talking to himself when he was deep in thought, but this time, it felt different—more personal, more troubling.

aizawa, who had been observing from a distance, narrowed his eyes slightly. he could see midoriya spiraling, lost in his thoughts. with a resigned sigh, he cleared his throat, snapping midoriya out of his daze.

“midoriya,” aizawa called out, his tone calm but firm, “whatever’s going on, you need to address it directly. stop overthinking and talk to her. otherwise, it’s just going to get worse.”

midoriya blinked, realizing that he’d been muttering to himself in front of everyone. embarrassment colored his cheeks as he looked around at the concerned faces staring back at him. “you’re right,” he said, his voice more resolute now. “i need to talk to her. i have to find out what’s going on and fix it.”

with a determined nod, midoriya set off to figure out what had gone wrong. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya decided to meet with his friends to discuss the situation, hoping their insights could help him understand what had gone wrong with you and how to fix it. he figured that since they had all spent time together, they might have noticed something he missed. they settled into a cozy corner of a café, their faces reflected a mix of concern and curiosity.

todoroki raised an eyebrow, studying midoriya closely. “you haven’t figured it out yet?”

midoriya shook his head vigorously, frustration evident. “no clue. i didn’t even notice that something was wrong. my students pointed it out.”

kirishima, usually cheerful, took on a serious tone. “this is a big deal. you don’t know what’s upsetting her or how long she’s been feeling this way. could be serious.”

midoriya nodded, determination clear in his features. “i’ll talk to her. i just need to understand what went wrong so i can make it right.”

kaminari, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward. “just talking to her isn’t going to cut it. if you really messed up, you need to go big.”

midoriya frowned slightly. “yeah, but what if the grand gesture is too much?”

“better to go overboard than underboard,” kirishima said firmly. “if she’s really upset, a grand gesture might show her how much you care. it’s about being a man and showing that you’re genuinely sorry.”

todoroki nodded in agreement. “think of something meaningful. show her how much you value her.”

“no half-assed attempts,” bakugou added, his tone serious. “if you’re going to do this, make it count.”

midoriya’s resolve strengthened with each piece of advice. “i’ll come up with something that truly shows how much she means to me. i want to make sure she knows i’m serious about fixing this.”

his friends exchanged approving glances, satisfied with midoriya’s determination. as they continued brainstorming ideas, the café buzzed with the energy of their discussion. midoriya’s mind raced with possibilities, each more elaborate and heartfelt than the last. he knew he had to pull out all the stops to make things right with you, and he was ready to put everything he had into it. the grand gestures was the way to go, and he was determined to make it unforgettable.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

the first idea had come from aoyama. somehow, word had spread through their old class about midoriya’s dilemma, and each of them had ideas on how to help. aoyama, being aoyama, suggested something extravagant.

“a grand piece of art!” aoyama had said with flair. “something beautiful that she can walk through and admire. she’ll be swept off her feet!”

with todoroki’s help, they crafted an elaborate display of ice sculptures—each one representing something meaningful to you. the sculptures were delicate, intricate depictions of your favorite things: a particular book you loved, a scene from a memory they shared, and even a tiny version of your favorite flower.

as midoriya stood beside todoroki, his face glowed with anticipation. “thank you so much for helping with this,” midoriya said, his voice brimming with gratitude. “i really appreciate it.”

todoroki nodded, though he seemed slightly uneasy. “no problem. i’m sure she’ll love it.”

when you arrived, you looked hesitant but curious. midoriya guided you forward with a flourish, eager to see your reaction. but as you came into view, the excitement drained from his face.

instead of a beautiful display, you were met with a scene of puddles and half-melted ice sculptures. the intricate figures that todoroki had so carefully crafted were now just watery blobs.

midoriya stood by your side, looking disheveled and panicked. he glanced around in confusion, noticing that the ice was melting faster than it should have. “but... it’s winter,” he muttered, his brow furrowing.

you stared at the mess, disappointment and frustration washing over you. “what is this?” you asked, your voice tight with irritation.

midoriya, clearly distressed and flustered, stammered, “i thought it would be something special, but—”

he didn’t get to finish. glaring at him, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving him standing there, drenched in disappointment. todoroki and their friends, who had been watching from a distance, exchanged helpless glances as midoriya stood amidst the puddles of his failed gesture.

it was then that midoriya and todoroki noticed a group of first-year students practicing their fire quirks. the heat from their flames had warmed the ground, causing the ice sculptures to melt rapidly.

todoroki sighed, running a hand through his hair. “she was not happy.”

midoriya’s shoulders slumped. “i wanted to make her feel special, but all i did was mess things up.”

“don’t give up,” todoroki said, trying to reassure him. “there’s still time. just... maybe something simpler next time.”

but simpler didn’t come easily for midoriya. with each new idea suggested by his friends, he found himself spiraling further into chaos.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya had decided to take a bold step to make things right, following iida’s suggestion. he arranged a surprise staff meeting to publicly apologize to you, hoping that a formal and heartfelt apology would finally bridge the gap. with iida’s help, everything was set: the time, the place, and the carefully crafted speech midoriya had prepared.

however, midoriya overlooked one crucial detail—unbeknownst to him you had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for the same time as the meeting and couldn’t attend. unaware of your absence, midoriya proceeded with the plan.

as the meeting time approached, midoriya arrived early, his nerves jangling with anticipation. he had meticulously rehearsed his speech and was ready to make his apology. iida arrived shortly after to help set everything up and work the slideshow. the rest of the staff arrived, each person taking their seat, eager to hear what midoriya had prepared.

when the time came, midoriya stood at the front of the room, his speech in hand, only to realize that you were missing. a quick check with iida confirmed that you were indeed not present, and midoriya’s heart sank. he had planned to address you directly, but with you absent, he was at a loss for how to proceed.

in a moment of panic, midoriya decided to go ahead with the meeting anyway. clearing his throat, he began, “uh, thank you all for coming. i, um, had prepared a speech for ms. y/ln, but it seems she couldn’t make it today…”

the staff exchanged confused glances, some shuffling in their seats, unsure of what to do. midoriya, now the center of attention, tried to salvage the situation by improvising a general discussion about recent events and updates at the school.

he spoke about new curriculum changes, upcoming events, and even shared some amusing anecdotes to fill the awkward silence. what was intended as a formal apology session transformed into an impromptu staff meeting, with midoriya as the flustered host. iida attempted to assist by passing around random papers with topics, but this only added to the confusion.

as the meeting dragged on, it became evident that midoriya’s heartfelt apology had become an unintended and rather chaotic discussion. the staff, initially puzzled, became engaged in the unexpected meeting, though with a sense of bewilderment.

when the meeting finally wrapped up, midoriya stood at the front of the room, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. his attempt to make things right had resulted in an unplanned staff meeting.

you returned from your appointment later that day, only to hear about the mix-up from your colleagues. they filled you in on the unexpected turn of events. meanwhile, midoriya was already plotting his next grand gesture, determined to find a way to properly convey his apology and make things right with you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

after the previous grand gestures were a flop, midoriya decided to try something simpler yet still meaningful. with the help of momo and uraraka, he picked out the perfect bouquet: a mix of your favorite flowers, complemented by blooms in colors he knew you liked. the vibrant petals were arranged with careful attention to detail, each one chosen with thoughtfulness and care. midoriya’s heart raced as he made his way through the hallway, clutching the bouquet tightly, hoping this gesture would finally break through the wall between you two.

as he approached the corner where you were about to turn, midoriya took a deep breath, holding the bouquet out in front of him. his nerves were on edge as he hoped you’d see the effort he’d put into this simple but heartfelt gesture.

but just as he was about to step into your view, a loud crackle filled the air. one of the first-year students, still struggling with their electricity quirk, had lost control, and sparks began to fly uncontrollably. midoriya’s eyes widened in horror as a stray bolt shot out and zapped right through the bouquet in his hands. the once-vibrant flowers were instantly reduced to nothing but charred stems, the bright colors now a dark, ashy mess.

 you turned the corner just as midoriya was standing there, holding what looked like a bundle of burnt sticks. raising an eyebrow, you stopped in your tracks and stared at him. “uh… what’s this supposed to be?” you asked, trying to make sense of the scene in front of you.

midoriya’s face flushed bright red, and he stammered, “i… i had flowers for you, but…” he trailed off, glancing down at the destroyed bouquet. his shoulders slumped in embarrassment, and he shifted awkwardly, feeling the sting of failure.

you sighed, the hurt in your eyes evident. “well, thanks, i guess? never been given stems before.” your voice was laced with a mix of sadness and irritation as you shook your head. with that, you turned to walk away, leaving midoriya standing there with a sinking feeling in his chest. he felt like he’d only made things worse, once again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya decided to try another simple approach to make amends. remembering your favorite coffee shop and the drink you loved, he headed there with a hopeful heart. the bell above the door jingled as he walked in, and the rich, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped him. he approached the counter, his nerves making his voice slightly shaky.

“hi, i’d like to get an iced latte with hazelnut and caramel, please. it’s for someone special,” he said, trying to keep his tone light and friendly.

the barista nodded and started preparing the drink. midoriya watched with bated breath as the machine whirred and hissed, the caramel and hazelnut syrup swirling into the coffee. he could almost see his hopes and apologies taking shape in the cup.

just as the barista handed him the cup, the machine let out a loud, mechanical groan and then abruptly stopped working. the barista’s face fell as she glanced at the now silent machine.

“wow, you’re really lucky,” she said with a sigh. “the machine’s down, and we won’t be able to make another one of these until our manager gets back to check it out. probably won’t be able to make another one of these for another two hours.”

midoriya’s heart sank slightly. he felt a flicker of relief that he had managed to get the coffee before the machine broke down, but the frustration of his situation made his shoulders droop. he thanked the barista and took the cup with a shaky hand, his excitement tempered by worry. he hoped this gesture would be enough to bridge the gap between you and him.

just as he was about to step out, a kid darted past him, bumping into his side with a jolt. midoriya stumbled, and before he could react, the cup flew from his grasp, the precious coffee spilling in a slow-motion cascade onto the floor. the liquid pooled around his shoes, the ice cubes and caramel syrup mixing into a dark puddle.

his heart sank as he stared at the mess. “oh no,” he muttered, feeling a wave of frustration and embarrassment wash over him. he glanced back at the counter, where the barista was now talking to another customer.

“we can’t make any more of those for now. that lucky guy just got the last one,” the barista said, pointing directly at midoriya.

midoriya’s head snapped to the woman in front of the register, and he saw you. your expression shifting from confusion to surprise and then to dismay. your eyes widened as you took in the sight of the ruined cup and midoriya’s mortified face. you had somehow slipped past him while he was waiting, and now you stood in front of the register.

“oh, great,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “this just keeps getting better.”

midoriya, now red-faced and utterly deflated, stood there feeling the weight of his failed attempt to make things right. his mind raced as he wanted to apologize, explain, and make it up to you, but all he could do was stand there, feeling utterly deflated.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

it was the start of the school day, and midoriya was busy preparing his classroom for the students. he was in high spirits, excited to tackle the day’s lessons and he felt good about his plans to work things out with you. however, his optimism was abruptly interrupted when a group of students burst into the room, their faces flushed with a mixture of urgency and panic.

“sensei, we need to talk!” one of them exclaimed, practically breathless from running.

midoriya looked up from his desk, surprised by the sudden intrusion. “oh, don’t worry, guys! i know you’re eager to start and all, but you still have another half hour before homeroom begins.”

“no, this is urgent!” another student insisted, their voice tinged with anxiety. “it’s about ms. ms. y/ln.”

midoriya’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “what about her?”

the students quickly gathered around him, pulling out their phones with frantic gestures. midoriya’s heart sank as he watched the video they played. it showed you in a training session, ruthlessly taking down a dummy with a green wig and a set of freckles. the dummy’s resemblance to midoriya was almost comical, and you were using a variety of improvised weapons—bats, metal rods, and even a few random objects that had no place in a school setting. your movements were executed with a dramatic flair and an intensity that was both impressive and alarming.

midoriya stared at the screen, his eyes widening with disbelief. “you guys came to school early just to show me this?”

“yeah,” one student said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “we’ve noticed that ms. y/ln has been a lot more relaxed with us lately. she’s been back to her old self, but you’re still clearly on her bad side. we thought you should see this to understand why.”

midoriya tried to keep his tone light, despite the unsettling nature of the video. “gee, thanks. this is... uh, definitely something.”

another student nodded, their expression serious. “yeah, sensei. you really need to figure out what you did. we like you a lot, but i wouldn’t want to be that test dummy. she’s clearly still holding onto something.”

midoriya’s face fell into a mix of worry and determination. “i’ll talk to her and figure this out. thanks for letting me know.”

as the students left, midoriya remained at his desk, replaying the video in his mind. the exaggerated way you had taken down the dummy made it clear that you were still very upset with him. he was more determined than ever to find out what had gone wrong and make things right before your frustration led to even more extreme demonstrations–and hes nervous for the day that you decide you need a human target.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya had been feeling increasingly desperate to make things right after his previous attempts ended in disaster. he remembered a conversation he’d had with todoroki after the ice sculpture mishap. todoroki had suggested, “a carefully written note might be the best way to communicate your feelings without risking another embarrassing mishap.”

at the time, midoriya had thought a note would be too simple and struggled with the idea, especially since he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. but the test dummy incident had pushed him to his limits, making him realize he couldn’t afford another failure.

determined, midoriya spent hours crafting the perfect message. he poured his heart into every word, making sure you understood how much you meant to him and how genuinely sorry he was for everything that had gone wrong. the note was sincere, filled with his deepest apologies and hopes for understanding.

the library seemed like the ideal place to leave the note—quiet, private, and somewhere you were likely to find it without interference. midoriya waited for the library to clear out, his nerves on edge. when it was finally empty and still, he walked in, his heart pounding.

he spotted your folder resting on a table and took a deep breath. with a mix of nervous excitement and hope, he slipped the note inside, feeling a small sense of victory as he did. as he walked away, he felt a renewed sense of hope, convinced that this time, things might finally go right.

but later that afternoon, as midoriya walked down the hall towards the teachers’ lounge, he overheard two students talking animatedly.

“did you hear?” one student said, their voice filled with excitement. “a love note ended up in mr. aizawa’s folder!”

midoriya froze, his heart racing as he processed the shocking news. “mr. aizawa?!” he thought, his mind whirling with panic. he hadn’t seen you since the incident, and now he was horrified to discover that his apology note had ended up in aizawa’s folder instead of yours. his face went pale as he realized the note was meant to be a sincere apology, not a confession. he had never intended to make his feelings for you so obvious, and now he was mortified to find out it was interpreted as a love confession.

as he continued down the hall, he felt a pang of relief that the note hadn’t ended up in your folder, since it would have been even more awkward for you to see it that way. but that relief was overshadowed by the embarrassment and frustration of his mistake. midoriya’s stomach churned as he realized the mess he had accidentally created. desperate to correct the situation, he quickly rushed into the lounge, his face pale with worry and his thoughts racing.

he began pacing around the room, knowing he had to act fast. he needed to find a way to rectify the situation with aizawa and still make things right with you. his heart pounded as he brainstormed how to salvage his heartfelt gesture before it was too late.

i take it this note was meant for y/ln?” aizawa’s voice cut through the room, startling midoriya.

midoriya jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. he turned to see aizawa standing in the doorway, his usually stern expression replaced by an intense, almost intimidating gaze. midoriya’s face went pale, and he stammered, “yes! i’m really sorry about this, aizawa. i didn’t mean for it to get this messy.”

aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone dropping to a low, almost menacing growl. “you know, midoriya, if you’re going to mess up, you should probably make sure it doesn’t involve the entire faculty.”

midoriya swallowed hard, a cold sweat forming on his forehead. he felt a rush of anxiety as he tried to explain himself. “i didn’t want to cause any trouble. i just thought—”

“do you like her?” aizawa interrupted, cutting through midoriya’s nervous babble.

midoriya blinked, taken aback. “well, yes, i do. i mean, i—”

“do you like her in a romantic way?” aizawa pressed, his gaze unyielding.

midoriya’s face flushed bright red. he began to ramble, “uh, yeah, i guess you could say that. i’ve liked her for a long time, and i’ve been trying to show her that, but everything keeps going wrong. i mean, i’ve been messing up left and right, and—”

“how did you get that idea?” midoriya finally blurted out, stumbling over his own words.

aizawa’s eyes softened just a bit. “this seems like a big apology for a coworker,” aizawa said, his tone shifting slightly. “sounds like a confession to me.”

midoriya’s eyes widened, and his face turned beet red. “oh, well, yeah, you could say that. i’ve been scared to tell her how i feel because i didn’t want to make things worse. i keep screwing up and pushing us further apart, and—”

“you’re overcomplicating things,” aizawa said, cutting through midoriya’s anxious rambling. “maybe it’s time to just talk to her directly.”

midoriya nodded, determination settling on his face. he knew he needed to take a straightforward approach to make things right. with a renewed sense of purpose, he prepared himself to finally confront the situation head-on, hoping that this time, his genuine feelings would come through and truly make a difference.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya was rushing out of the school building, determined to go home and prepare for a straightforward conversation with you. his plan was clear: find out what he’d done wrong, ask how he could make things right, and confess his feelings. he was nearly at the exit when kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, and bakugou intercepted him.

“hey, where are you rushing off to?” kaminari called out, blocking midoriya’s path with an eager grin.

midoriya came to a halt, his frustration evident. “i’m heading home to get ready for a talk with y/n. i really don’t have time for this.”

“perfect timing, then!” kaminari said, his grin widening. “we’ve got a plan to help you out.”

“a plan?” midoriya asked, eyeing the guitar kaminari was holding. “what’s this about?”

and that’s how midoriya found himself standing in front of your house, flanked by bakugou, kirishima, kaminari, and todoroki, all ready to serenade you like a group of love-struck lunatics. the whole situation felt surreal to him. he turned to kaminari, wearing the same skeptical and apprehensive expression he had earlier when they had intercepted him.

“are you sure this is going to work?” midoriya asked, trying to sound confident but clearly nervous.

kaminari, holding his guitar with a grin, shrugged nonchalantly. “works on jirou all the time. chicks love when you sing to them. it’s like some kind of chemical thing, I think.”

“okay, okay,” midoriya said, taking a deep breath. “let’s just get this over with.”

kaminari strummed the opening chords of the song, and midoriya took his place in front of the group, awkwardly adjusting his stance. he started singing, his voice wavering at first but gradually gaining confidence as he got into the rhythm. the lyrics were heartfelt, a mixture of longing and apology, expressing how much he missed you and how desperately he wanted to make things right.

as midoriya sang, his initial discomfort slowly faded, replaced by a genuine emotion that he hoped would reach you. kirishima and todoroki added their backup vocals, harmonizing with the main melody, while bakugou stood off to the side with his arms crossed, trying to look disinterested but clearly invested in the performance.

just as the song hit its emotional peak, the front door of the house swung open. an elderly man, clearly not you, stormed out onto the porch, his face red with irritation. “what in the world do you think you’re doing, making all this noise at this hour?!”

midoriya froze, his heart sinking as he realized their mistake. the old man’s eyes narrowed, and with a powerful gust of wind from his quirk, he sent them stumbling back. the sudden force knocked them off balance, and midoriya barely managed to stay upright.

“run!” kaminari yelled, already sprinting down the street. the others scrambled to follow, scattering in every direction as the irate old man pursued them with surprising vigor and speed for someone his age.

“it’s only seven o’clock at night!” kaminari shouted, his voice tinged with panic as he was flung into the air. midoriya and the rest of the group could only watch in horror as their friend was tossed around like a rag doll by the furious old man.

the old man’s face was a deep shade of red with rage. “it’s late enough! get off my lawn!” he bellowed, his voice amplified by the force of his quirk. gusts of wind howled around them, whipping up leaves and debris.

three houses down, you were grading papers when the commotion outside drew your attention. the sounds of shouting and the rush of wind made you step onto your porch, where you were met with a scene of utter chaos: a group of boys being chased by your 80-year-old neighbor, who was shaking his cane with fierce determination and unleashing his wind quirk with surprising strength.

through the flurry of wind and movement, you squinted and recognized the familiar green-haired figure. as realization dawned, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

midoriya, flailing mid-flight against the gusts of wind, finally spotted you. panic and embarrassment flashed across his face as he was propelled toward your direction. when his eyes met yours, his expression softened into a sheepish smile.

seeing him so disheveled and helpless only made you laugh harder. you hesitated for a moment, then gave him a small, wavering wave. your smile blended amusement with sympathy, recognizing that this wild spectacle was all his doing. 

as midoriya was swept past, he saw you retreating back into your home, closing the door behind you. despite the chaos, he managed to hold onto that sheepish grin. your smile, amid the disaster of the serenade, gave him a flicker of hope. 

midoriya felt himself being yanked out of the wind’s path and looked up to see bakugou standing over him with a smirk. “looks like you finally got her attention, nerd,” bakugou said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and satisfaction.

midoriya, still disoriented from the chaos, brushed himself off and looked around at the scattered group. kirishima and todoroki were catching their breath, while kaminari was sitting on the curb, looking dazed and slightly battered. the gusts of wind had finally ceased, but the ruckus had left its mark.

midoriya’s thoughts raced as he tried to piece together what had just happened. “how did we get the house wrong?” he muttered, he looked up at the house they had just been harassing, his eyes finally taking in the number on the mailbox: 109. realization hit him hard. “we’re at 109, not 106!” he exclaimed, his face falling in disbelief.

the group turned in unison to kaminari, their collective frustration apparent. “you got the address wrong, didn’t you?” bakugou growled, glaring at him.

kaminari’s eyes widened in panic. “it was just a mistake! I didn’t—”

midoriya’s realization was quickly overshadowed by another gust of wind. the old man, still fuming and clutching his cane, had spotted the group again and was gearing up for another attack.

“run!” kirishima shouted, causing midoriya and the others to jump into motion. they scrambled for safety, but the old man’s wind quirk picked up speed, howling as it blasted toward them.

amid the chaos, kaminari, who was still dazed from the earlier commotion, stumbled and tripped over his own feet. “guys, wait up!” he yelled, but his plea was drowned out by the roaring wind.

without a second thought, the rest of the group sprinted away, leaving kaminari behind. the old man’s quirk grabbed kaminari and sent him flying into the air. midoriya, glancing back, saw kaminari flailing helplessly as he was tossed around like a ragdoll.

“sorry, man!” kirishima shouted over his shoulder, guilt evident in his voice as he continued to run.

kaminari’s screams echoed through the night as the old man, now thoroughly enraged, spun him around with impressive strength. “try and sing now pretty boy!” the old man roared, hurling kaminari high into the air before catching him again and sending him spinning.

midoriya and the others continued to flee, their pace slowing as they glanced back nervously. the old man’s furious wind gusts faded into the distance, and with each passing moment, kaminari’s screams grew quieter.

they ran behind the cover of trees and bushes, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. midoriya’s heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion but from the fear for their friend. kirishima, breathing heavily, kept turning his head, his face a mix of worry and regret.

“is he still…?” kirishima began, but his voice trailed off as the group strained to listen. kaminari’s cries, once sharp and panicked, had dwindled to distant echoes.

“i don’t hear him anymore,” todoroki said, his voice low and tense.

“he should be alright,” bakugou said, his tone brimming with frustration. “he can take care of himself.”

midoriya swallowed hard, unable to shake the image of kaminari being tossed around. “we need to go back,” he said, his voice determined but weary.

“no way,” bakugou countered. “we need to stay out of sight. we can’t help him if we get caught too.”

they continued to move away, their steps slow and cautious as they kept glancing back toward the fading sound of kaminari’s distress. the screams eventually faded completely, leaving only the haunting memory of their friend’s ordeal.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

the four boys made their way to todoroki's apartment, the closest and most convenient refuge after their chaotic run-in with the old man. as they settled in, todoroki offered drinks and snacks while they waited for kaminari to arrive. they sent a steady stream of text messages to their missing friend, updating him on their location and asking him to join them as soon as possible.

as midoriya was deep in thought, trying to piece together the troubling realization, the front door to todoroki’s apartment burst open. kaminari staggered in, drenched from head to toe. his clothes clung to him, and he dripped puddles onto the floor. the room fell silent as the others turned to see their soggy friend, a mix of relief and confusion on their faces.

“dude, you’re soaked!” kirishima exclaimed, rushing to grab a towel for kaminari.

kaminari, still catching his breath and shivering from the cold, looked around at the concerned faces. “you guys won’t believe it. there’s a huge storm outside. i got caught in it while the old man was still throwing me around. the wind was so strong it messed withhis quirk. managed to escape when he got distracted by the storm.”

as kaminari finally managed to get himself mostly dry, he glared at his friends, still visibly shaken. “i can’t believe you guys left me behind out there!” he exclaimed, frustration and disbelief clear in his voice.

kirishima tossed a towel to kaminari, shooting him an apologetic look. “we didn’t exactly have much of a choice. the old man was going to blow us all away!”

todoroki nodded in agreement. “yeah, and you kind of tripped over your own feet, making it hard for us to help.”

bakugou crossed his arms, smirking. “it’s not like we planned for you to get caught. it’s your fault for messing up the address.”

kaminari’s eyes widened. “are you seriously blaming me for this? you guys should have double-checked!”

despite the lively discussion, midoriya’s attention drifted. sitting cross-legged on the floor and leaning back against the wall, he stared at the flickering embers of the fire. the warmth from the fire contrasted sharply with the turmoil in his mind. lost in thought, he replayed the events of the night over and over. his heart sank as he remembered a crucial detail from weeks ago—a fleeting moment he had brushed off at the time but now seemed significant. it was something you had said or done that had seemed minor then, but now it loomed large in his memory.

his eyes widened as the realization struck him with the force of a freight train. his heart dropped, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. the truth of that moment made everything about their disastrous serenade make sense, and the weight of his mistake felt heavier than ever.

it was a few weeks ago, right before fall break. you and midoriya had been sitting at your dining table, grading papers together. the room was filled with the soft sounds of pens scratching against paper, and outside, the leaves were a brilliant mix of oranges and golds. he remembered how content you seemed, how you’d smiled at him, saying, “you know, izuku… this is kind of nice.”

he’d looked up, confused but curious. “what is?”

“just… this.” you’d waved your hand at the table, the papers, and the two of you sitting together. “it’s nice. we should do it more often.”

he’d smiled back, completely missing the undertone of your words. “yeah, i think so too! it’s a lot easier to get through all this work when we’re doing it together. makes it less boring.”

he could see it now, the small shift in your expression as you nodded, pushing on despite his obliviousness. “exactly. it’s… comfortable, being here with you. like, i wouldn’t mind doing this… more often.”

he’d laughed, still clueless. “definitely! actually, i was just thinking how much easier this would be if we had uraraka and iida helping out too. we’d be done in no time!”

the way your smile had faltered, how your eyes had dimmed slightly as you tried one last time. “well, i’m just glad it’s you here with me. it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.”

and he’d laughed again, unknowingly brushing off what had been a confession of sorts. “haha, thanks! i guess we do make a pretty good team. we’re like the ultimate grading duo!”

he saw it so clearly now—the way you’d sighed, looking deflated, your words trailing off as you muttered, “yeah… a good team.”

and he had just continued grading, thinking everything was fine, not realizing that he’d hurt you, that you’d taken his response as a gentle rejection.

it hit him like a punch to the gut. how could he have been so blind? the way you’d smiled at him that night, the vulnerability in your voice—he’d completely missed it. and in doing so, he’d hurt the person he cared about most.

pacing around todoroki’s apartment, midoriya was a whirlwind of anxiety. his thoughts were racing, and his pacing left an impression on the floor.  "i... i messed up," midoriya said softly, almost to himself. but the others noticed. the chatter in the room stopped as they all turned to look at him.

bakugou was the first to speak. "what the hell are you babbling about now, deku?"

midoriya ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. "there was this night... we were at her house, grading papers. she said something that i—I completely missed the point. i thought we were just talking about work, but now... i realize she was trying to tell me something."

kirishima raised an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

midoriya exhaled shakily. "she said... 'i’m just glad it’s you here with me. it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.' and then... i just said, 'yeah, we’re a good team!' and moved on like it was nothing."

there was a beat of silence.

kaminari let out a low whistle. "dude..."

todoroki nodded slowly, piecing it together. "you didn’t realize she was talking about more than just grading, did you?"

midoriya shook his head, his face turning pale. "no... i didn’t. i thought she was just talking about us working together. i didn’t even think... i didn’t realize she meant that i was special to her. that being with me was different for her."

bakugou scoffed. "you’re such a damn idiot, even this half and half loser was able to put it together. she practically laid it out for you."

midoriya’s face flushed with embarrassment. "i know... i know, i was an idiot. but at the time, i just didn’t see it. i didn’t think... i didn’t think someone like her would... feel that way about me."

kirishima’s grin softened into something more understanding. "man, that’s rough. but hey, it’s not too late. you can still do something about it."

midoriya looked up, determination sparking in his eyes. "you’re right. i have to fix this. can’t just leave things like this."

“thats the spirit buddy! while you were being all weird in the corner we managed to track down a few people who are willing to do a flash m-”

midoriya was barley registering what kaminari was. his mind was fixated on you and what he needed to do. without a word, he bolted for the door, leaving the others staring in confusion.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya stood at your door, a soaked mess of a romantic cliché. the rain had pounded him relentlessly, leaving his dress shirt clinging to his skin, almost see-through from the downpour. water dripped steadily from him, forming a small, glistening puddle on your porch. leaves and twigs were tangled in his green curls, sticking out like a wild, untamed halo, while some damp strands clung to his forehead. his tie hung askew, probably snagged during his frantic sprint, and his dress pants were plastered to his legs, heavy with rain.

each step he took produced a miserable squish from his soaked socks, echoing the awkwardness of the situation. his breathing was uneven, each inhale a shaky gasp from the run to your house. normally so composed, midoriya now stood there, a sopping wet contradiction to his usually neat appearance.

he raised a trembling hand to knock, his fingers fumbling with cold and nerves. when you answered the door, your eyes widened in shock. the sight of midoriya was like something out of a slapstick romantic comedy—his usually neat hair was a wild mess, and his clothes clung to him in a way that was more tragic than suave.

“izuku? are you insane?” you asked, bewildered.

midoriya, still panting from his run, looked at you with a mix of determination and embarrassment. “it’s been a long six months,” he stammered, struggling to catch his breath. “i was too afraid to tell you what i wanted.”

you raised an eyebrow, taking a step back to survey the drenched mess in front of you. “what are you talking about? you look like you swam here.”

midoriya took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “that night we were grading papers, you said something that i didn’t understand at the time. you said, ‘i’m just glad it’s you here with me. it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.’”

you blinked, still processing his soaked appearance. “yeah, i did. no need to—”

“i thought you meant you were just glad to have me as a coworker,” midoriya interrupted, his voice trembling with vulnerability. “but now i realize you were trying to tell me something much more important. i was so focused on keeping you as a friend that i didn’t realize i missed my chance to be something more.”

your eyes widened, and you took a step back, your mind racing. “wait, so… you like me?”

“yes, i really do,” midoriya said, his voice trembling with cold and nervousness. “i’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out. i want you in my life, no matter what. i know i’ve messed things up, and i want to make it right. you mean so much to me, and i’d wait as long as it takes to prove that. i like you, a lot.”

you stared at him with a mix of frustration and relief. “oh my god, i thought you hated me! you tried to give me flowers, then there were the puddles, and the coffee—”

midoriya’s eyes widened in realization. “the flowers…the puddles—those were all me trying to show you how i felt!”

you groaned in disbelief, “and you didnt understand my way?”

midoriya’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “i’m sorry. i thought—”

you cut him off, frustration clear in your voice. “i thought you didn’t care! after i tried to confess, i needed some space, and you acted like nothing happened. then all these weird things kept happening, and it felt like you were mocking my feelings for you.”

midoriya’s shoulders slumped, his eyes filled with regret. “i was trying to show you how much you mean to me, but every time, something went wrong. i thought if i kept trying, it would get better, but it just made things worse.”

he stepped closer, the rain drenching his already soaked clothes. “i’m here to make things right. i want you to know how much you mean to me. i’m not just sorry for misunderstanding—i’m sorry for not realizing how special you are until now.”

he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took yours. his gaze was full of hope, his green eyes reflecting the soft glow of the porch light. “please, give me a chance to show you how much i care. i want to be more than just a good team. i want to be someone you can count on, someone who truly understands you.”

midoriya’s hand, cold and trembling, felt reassuringly warm against yours. the droplets cascading down his face highlighted the emotion in his expression, his eyes locked on yours. every sound around you—the distant rumble of thunder, the soft patter of rain, and the steady beat of your heart—seemed to magnify the intimacy of the moment. 

it felt as if the world had come to a standstill, holding its breath for this delicate, significant moment between the two of you. as you took a shaky breath, the weight of the past weeks seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of anticipation.

with a small, tearful smile, you finally found your voice. “okay.” the word was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of your emotions. it was a simple affirmation, but it felt profound in the context of your shared experience.

midoriya’s face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy as he stepped even closer, the warmth of his presence nearly overwhelming despite the cold rain soaking through his clothes. droplets of water dripped onto your porch as he gently squeezed your hand, his thumb tenderly tracing over your knuckles. his eyes were filled with nothing but pure adoration, and before you knew it, he pulled you gently into his embrace, his soaked clothes pressing against you. the cold of the rain was undeniable, and you shivered as the chill seeped into your warmth.

“izuku, you’re freezing,” you managed between giggles, squirming slightly as the coldness of his wet clothes made you shudder.

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear despite the rain-soaked predicament. “i know, but i just couldn’t stay away.”

midoriya pulled back slightly, his arms still around you but loosening just enough to gaze into your eyes. his smile was wide, his expression a perfect blend of admiration and pure joy. he took a moment to fully appreciate how beautiful you looked, even as you laughed and tried to escape his embrace. the rain highlighted the sparkle in your eyes and the joy in your smile, making the moment feel even more special. he was overwhelmed with how lucky he felt to be here with you, sharing this perfectly imperfect moment.

slowly, midoriya cupped your face in his hands, his fingers brushing gently against your cheeks. the warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the chill of the rain, and you could feel the delicate tremor in his fingers, a sign of how much this moment meant to him. his gaze was tender, his eyes holding a mix of admiration and vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

you could feel his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and soothing against the cool, damp air. his closeness was both comforting and electrifying, the sensation of his presence enveloping you completely. midoriya’s gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before he leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. when his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the cold rain that drummed against the porch.

the kiss deepened gradually, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he were savoring every second. the warmth of his lips, paired with the lingering chill of the rain, created a stunning contrast that sent shivers down your spine. as his kiss conveyed both an apology and a promise, you felt a wave of warmth flood through you, banishing the chill of the downpour. the connection between you was profound, a blending of emotions that left you breathless.

midoriya’s hands, still cradling your face, were careful and reverent. the world outside—the rain, the noise, the chaos—seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared warmth and connection. his lips lingered against yours, his touch gentle as if he were afraid to break the spell of this perfect moment.

when he finally pulled away, his eyes were still locked on yours, and his smile was filled with pure, unrestrained happiness. he opened his mouth, seemingly ready to say something heartfelt, but before he could speak, loud cheers erupted from the bushes nearby.

“so manly!” “let’s go, young midoriya!”

the sudden outburst startled both of you. midoriya turned, his expression shifting from soft adoration to surprise as kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, and bakugou emerged from their hiding spots. kaminari was grinning widely, fist-pumping the air, while kirishima gave midoriya an exaggerated thumbs-up. todoroki offered a subtle nod of approval, and bakugou, arms crossed, smirked and muttered, “finally got her izuku.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

an: reach out?? the embers?? guys did i eat or what like tf anyways guys i have so many ideas so much i wanna write but why does it take so LONG FUCK but anyways enjoy this while i try to shit out some band au stuff (i love my band au plotline so much but i cant do any of the in between stuff its like a partial writers block)

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT SIMON NOT SHYING TO SHOW YOU OFF.

cw: fluff, comfort, nsfw, smut, established relationship, brief mentions of simons past, possesive behavior, mentions of another task force characters, kisses, pet names, public sex, passionate sex, unprotected p in v, marking, creampie pairing: bf simon ghost riley x gf fem reader

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

you and simon have been in a relationship for a relatively long time so that the man behind the balaclava of the skull and the nickname of the ghost, a man whose hands are stained with blood up to the elbows and dark circles have sunk under the dark pools of his eyes has become more than his dark image, his past, blossoming with your help.

his soul was no longer tormented by memories flashing like annoying flies and sleepless nights, cursed by the three cursed obscenity under his breath when he looked at the white shabby ceiling, now he fell asleep under the softness of your body near his chest, watching your chest heave and eyelashes flutter, soft sighs slide from your lips, now he was no longer tormented by memories, now he no longer was faced by faceless corpses.

if he could put all his gratitude into his words, he would not be silent for a minute, but instead of words, his eyes and actions spoke, warm brown ones always secretly accompanied you and stuck to your back until the moment you disappeared from his field of vision, calloused hands carefully held yours or lay with a landing weight on the very bottom of your back, he accompanied you, drove you, saw you off, and perhaps very rarely expressed his affection verbally, but when a languid baritone sounded like lightning through the sky in three words over your ear — «i love you», you knew that he was attached to you.

therefore, simon was not afraid to show you as his most precious treasure to everyone around him, he was not afraid to hold your hand, intertwining his fingers almost in a knot, he was not afraid to kiss you in public, raising his mask only to his nose and maybe covering the two of you with his palm, muffling your meek protests with a brief but deep kiss, licking your bottom lip hot and wet, searching for an entry, before pulling back and straightening himself out, narrowing his eyes in a smile at your embarrassment and slight frown in your brows.

from time to time you could catch him openly praising you, be it within the walls of your house, where he would stand in the aisle to the room or sit on the bed while you were changing clothes, endlessly repeating in a grump, but truly loving manner that — «you're so beautiful like that, fuck, my gorgeous love», or in public, sitting in a bar with his comrades from the task force, to whom he had no problem showing you off, trusting them like family, trusting them with you, almost all the time watching you sit and communicate with them, giggling, forcing him at a certain moment to squeeze your cheeks and lean over to kiss you, causing you to squeak in dismay, squeezing his shirt on his chest into fists while he released your lips with wet pop, noticing out of the corner of his eye how some of the boys were embarrassed by such a display of intimacy, but this didn't stop him from purring — «sorry, you just so lovely while giggling all like that, doll»

and he, as if unexpectedly, had no problem letting the others hear how lucky he was, taking you away from the table in the process, only humming at your giggling and slightly interested — «where are we going, simon? baby?? are we going home?» which he may have been rude, but ignored, and the rest of the task force either guessed or simply got away with it, but one way or another you find yourself in a narrow hallway on the way to the toilets, pressed against the wall in a darkened corner, when his lips press against yours with heat and wetness, licking into your mouth.

he only brought you two here because he couldn’t contain his arousal while looking at you, relaxed, cheerful, and yet incredibly beautiful — and he would have been glad to let you talk to his mates longer, but he simply couldn’t stop himself from pinning you against the wall, pulling his hands under your cute, loose dress that you wore especially for this meeting, and running his thick fingers along the edges of your panties and right along your clothed slit, pressing teasingly before starting to gradually lower them, making you let an impatient, albeit an embarrassed whine — «si.. there's people..»

simon just grunts as always, taking a moment to lower your slightly drenched panties, his touch gentle, always so, but yet impatient.

he then swiftly unzips his pants, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxers, throbbing, meaty length with dark red tip that leaks precum and gets him all wet and sticky as he pumps himself couple of times, guiding himself between your slightly parted legs, teasing your slick slit and lightly brushing against your clenched cunt, eliciting a moan from you, sweet, shyly and almost chocked from embarrassment sound.

pressing his broad chest against your back, he pins you against the cold wall of small hallway corner, his body heat radiating against your skin as anticipation hangs heavy in the air as he positions himself, ready to stuff himself full in your wet heat, resting his head on your frail shoulder and muttering in your ear, deeply, as if growling, holding all his pent up arousal so as not to overwhelm you and peppering the side of your face — «s'pretty, just.. gonna be real quick, lovie, couldn't help myself»

unable to refuse, you silently arch, ducking your head slightly under your arm that are braced on the wall, when simon nothing but growls appreciatively at the sight of your plush ass pressed against his pubic bone and arch of your spine, his desire intensifying.

thick, warm palm squeezes your butt with his free hand, relishing in the softness and warmth beneath his touch, albeit possessively, letting his fingers sink into the warm skin and leave scarlet imprints from the touch.

with a firm grip, he pulls your asscheek slightly, allowing him to guide his throbbing cock inside your cunt, your folds flutter around him as he eases inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the slight stretch.

he can feel his bulbous head leaking, the slickness making it easier for him to slide into you until he is fully buried inside your warm depths, bottoming out fully till he's balls deep, you squeeze and clench around him till your hole relaxes and he can move a tad bit, looking behind his shoulder just to see the dim lit bar hallway still missing of people, and it gives him more openness to action without the fear of you being uncomfortable.

and you don’t even feel it no more when simon starts with a few slow, testing thrusts, his hands resting on top of yours on the wall, he squeezes your hands gently, intertwining his fingers with yours, providing a comforting touch amidst the growing intensity and strokes your knuckles, his lips leaving quick kisses on your cheek and the sides of your face, distracting you from the increasing speed of his thrusts.

his hips roll and snap, driving his thick cock deeper with each movement, the strain of pleasure causes moans to escape your lips, muffled by the fear that someone going to hear you both, or he's friends that will try to find you, but still, unable to muffle them fully.

your eyes roll back in pleasure, losing yourself to the sensations coursing through your body, your cunt clenches around him, coating his thick cock in slickness, heightening the friction and pleasure for both of you as he thrust deeper, brushing against your spongy spots and finally finding the right place, hitting rapidly.

he knows this place inside you better than you yourself, thrusting his dick rapidly with just the right amount of force, the pleasure is overwhelming, causing your legs to tremble beneath you, knees buckling as if branches.

simon grunts right below your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin, as he presses you further into the wall, his bulky form squishing against your body, creating an intimate shield, he can let people hear, but not look at how you melt against him and become a beautiful, fucking pretty mess, it's just for his eyes.

his balls slap against the swell of your ass with each powerful thrust, the sound echoing in the room, as his hands squeezes yours tightly, ensuring you have no way to muffle the throaty mewls that escape your lips, full of desperate mewls of his name and unintelligible babbling — «si! si-simon, yes, s-s' deep! hmnn!» the sounds of your pleasure reverberate, unabashedly reaching the ears of anyone passing by, leaving no doubt to the passionate encounter taking place between you in this small, narrow corner.

simon's ears perk up as he hears your desperate babbles, and it's only serves to fuel his desire, and he growls in response — «f-fuck.., what ya doing to me, doll» and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

he presses his face into your neck, kissing softly and moving against your skin with his teeth, scratching, alternating between gentle bites and leaving marks in the form of hickeys, let them bloom on your skin like pinkish purple flowers, the one's he's happy to pepper your flesh with.

his hips snap against your ass with greater force, his cock driving deeper in your slickness and hitting your g-spot with each powerful thrust, simon shows no signs of slowing down, his determination evident as he continues to ravish you from the inside, each vein on his shaft rub against your gummy walls, fucking your brains out.

your grumbles and throaty moans intensify, fueling his hunger even more, as well when you arch deeper, pressing yourself against his fast and desperate thrusts, seeking even greater pleasure, the sound of your voice and the way you respond to him cause his cock to throb, aching for release, leaking without stopping as his head plunge against your spongy spot, aching to fill you, as he relishes in your clenching and spasming.

as his cock continues to leak inside you, the slickness adding to the intensity of your pleasure, he relentlessly hits all the soft spots inside you, not giving you a moment to catch your breath, knocking it from your lungs, rhe burning sensation in his hips matches the sensation in your ass from his forceful snaps, heightening the pleasure for both of you.

as you feel the familiar, lava hot feeling in your lower stomach coiling tighter with each passing minute, simon senses that he's reaching his own limit as well, he buries his face in your shoulder, not letting himself kiss you, allowing you to sob against the wall from the overwhelming ecstasy, as your body shudders uncontrollably, pressing against him tighter as you struggle to find any relief from the impending climax that looms just here.

simon is completely lost in his own primal desires, fucking into you with relentless fervor, he shushes your babbled mewls, with lazy kisses on your chin, trying to provide some comfort amidst the overwhelming pleasure, as your words die on your heavy tongue and everything you let out is just — «close, i'm close, simon, hhmn, ah, yes!» as you press against his body, taking every harsh thrust with a mix of pleasure and pain.

your walls and folds spasm and clamp around his slick cock, signaling your impending climax, and then it hits you like a tidal wave.

your face lowers, your eyes rolling back until all you see is darkness, your body goes limp, shuddering uncontrollably as your cunt pulses and releases slick and cum, coating his shaft in your essence, letting it drip from your puffy lips and make a mess.

meanwhile, simon's tip curls and bumps against your g-spot more slowly and smoothly, prolonging his own pleasure, he throbs inside you, releasing warm, thick milky cum, painting your insides with his potent seed, filling you just as nice while panting in your ear and pepper you with soft kisses, finally releasing one of his hands to touch your chin, tipping it as you lift your head dazedly, letting him kiss your lips tenderly, murmuring gently — «thank you darling, did so good, such a good girl, just take it, yeah? t-take it» as he pump his cum in you.

he clearly ensures that his cum is thoroughly buried in your loose, wet hole before easing himself out with a quiet, slick noise, simon looks down at the white ring on the base of his shaft and the sticky mess that now coats your cunny, his eyes heavy lidded with satisfaction.

a deep, contented growl rumbles in his chest as he observes how his seed slightly seeps from your throbbing cunt, trailing along your thighs and dripping onto your panties, so he gathers some of the cum with his fingers, rubbing it against your sensitive folds, stuffing it back inside you, eliciting sobs from you as you remain too sensitive from the intense pleasure.

— «i know, love, i know, took it so good, just relax» he coos softly, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and dominance, as he fumbles with his pants and boxers, quickly hiding his now soft cock back inside his pants.

with a nonchalant disregard for the wet mess, he puts your panties back on you, not minding the mixture of his cum and your slickness that clings to the fabric, before spinning you around gently and picking you up in his arms, letting your limp legs wrap around his waist as he helped you, holding gently with one arm, while he adjusted the hem of your dress into place with other, hiding everything intimate from prying eyes, at lough not from everyone.

as soon as he turns and begins to carry you back towards the very inside of the bar, away from the dark corner, he bewitches around the corner and meets a well familiar scott, johnny, taking in a familiar dark mop of hair, arranged in mohawk, blue eyes that look with a certain taken aback when he immediately breaks through the silence in his usual barely intelligible speech — «eh, here you are, everyone was worried where you two been» but immediately shuts up when he takes in a situation better.

johnny is not stupid, he perfectly notices such details as the slight liddenes in brown eyes and your absolutely fatigued figure, which led you to bury yourself in simon's shoulder, almost sleepily, and he catches a glimpse of the bite marks and hickeys on your skin, simon's carelessly buttoned pants and your slightly wrinkled dress, causing his lips to break into a grin, and his eyes squint slyly, understandingly, and simon already feels where this will lead to.

but instead of further words, johnny pats him on his free shoulder, a little weaker than usual, out of sincere concern not to disturb you, before looking over his shoulder at the rest of the boys, to their table in a quieter corner, before looking back at simon, tilting his head, and pronouncing with slight humor, but no less valuable for this — «alright, i see, away with ye, take the bonnie home, i'll tell the boys that you two had to go, it was nice to see ya that happy around her»

simon's eyes flutter with clear respect, a fragile tenderness for a person who seems to be lending him a helping hand, albeit in such a small way, before he nods and they shake hands hastily, rather rudely, after which johnny leaves back to the table, and he, kissing the top of your head gently, gently strokes the curve of your back and whispers — «let's get back home, yeah, sweetheart?»

and you can only nod weakly, burying yourself in his shoulder more actively, before allowing him to take everything into his own hands and, squeezing you more possessively, head towards the exit.

[felinecyan]

Brat Tamer

[Derek Danforth x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: With every brat in the universe, there is always one who can put them in their place. In the case of the president’s spoiled son, this case is no different.

WC: 1555

Category: Fluff, Comfort

I need some fluff for this man, so I made some fluff for this man 😤

『••✎••』

The second you heard the frustrated yell through the walls of the house, you knew it was going to be a rough day, not for the Danforth's, but for you.

Derek was always an interesting one, though his parents tried to make him blend in with the crowd. He was the epitome of a rich kid. And like many rich kids, he was a brat. However, the brattiness didn't come from his parents spoiling him. He had a natural sense of entitlement, but his parents never fueled the fire. If anything, they tried to keep him in line, but their methods were... well...ineffective.

They had money, which meant they could do anything to keep their son out of trouble. They paid off teachers, bribed the local law enforcement, and made sure everyone looked the other way when it came to Derek's behavior. But when his father unfortunately passed, and his mother became preoccupied with her own work, you were like an angel sent down from heaven in Wallace's eyes when Derek introduced you.

You didn't put up with his shit, and you weren't afraid to tell him off. It's why, out of all the girls fawning over him, he chose you. He picked you. The most headstrong, assertive girl he could find because you were exactly what he needed. And it wasn't like you were uninterested. You were always a sucker for a good romance, and Derek was the textbook definition of a tall (he's not, but he promises he's at least 5'7), dashingly handsome, brooding young man.

But as much as you cared about him, there were moments when you just wanted to throttle him, like now.

"I thought you said you could handle it!" Derek's voice boomed when you opened the office door. You found him in his usual spot, in front of the window, the phone pressed to his ear, his eyes trained on the pool where a few maids were doing laundry. "And here you are... doing everything BUT handling it."

He listened to whoever was on the other line for a few moments, then scoffed, "It's one fucking guy! How can he be giving you so much trouble?"

When his eyes locked onto yours, you raised your eyebrows expectantly. He motioned for you to come inside, then rolled his eyes, "No, no... just shut the fuck up for a minute. Let me think."

You took a seat in one of the plush armchairs and watched him pace around the room, still on the phone. It was a sight that should've been amusing, but instead, it was exhausting. It was too early to deal with Derek's temper.

He did look particularly stressed today, though. You knew something was off the moment you woke up to an empty bed. Very uncommon. Usually, Derek liked to sleep in. He was a late sleeper, and if he was forced out of bed before noon, he was a grouch.

But that morning, the bed was empty, pajamas were on the floor, and there was a half-empty mug of coffee on the bedside table. It was a rare occurrence, and it made you uneasy.

And now that you found him like this, you knew something was up.

"Are you going to hang up or what?" you finally asked after a few more minutes of watching him pace around the room. "Or am I just supposed to sit here and watch you stomp a hole into the floor?"

He ignored your comment and continued his conversation, though it was clear he wasn't paying attention. "Yeah...no, it's fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like this is important or anything." He pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call. He tossed it onto the desk and dropped into the seat across from you.

"I pity you." You said. "That must've been a very stressful phone call."

"Oh, fuck you too."

You had to give it to him. He could always pick up on your sarcasm. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He crossed his arms and turned his head to look out the window.

"Bullshit." You rolled your eyes, "I know when something's up. Now spill. What's wrong?"

He groaned, "Nothing, it's just this random guy keeps fucking with me and the business. He's a fucking nuisance, and now I'm forced to deal with him. It's ridiculous."

"Oh, really?" you leaned forward, "So it's nothing, then? Just a little setback of you being forced to do your actual job?"

He looked at you like you were the devil. He could tell you weren't going to stop, and he didn't have the energy to fight. So he gave in, "Look, it's this guy, okay? I don't know who he is or what his deal is, but he's a fucking thorn in my side. Mickey says he's like... a bee lover or some shit. I don't know what the fuck he's talking about, but it's annoying."

"Bee lover?" You asked, "As in, a beekeeper? or a Vanessa Bloome fanatic?"

If looks could kill, the glare he gave you would've left you in a puddle of blood, but there was also a little twinkle of amusement in his eye, "Can you not reference that fucking animated movie for a single fucking second?"

"Not likely," You said with a smile, "Now, can we please move on from the random bee thing and get back to you and I?"

"There is no 'you and I," he said, "I have a problem. I was handling it. You have no place in this."

"Well, I do now," you said. You got up from your seat and made your way over to his chair. "You woke me up this morning. You have a problem, and I'm the only one who can help."

He shook his head, "Fuck off. I can handle this."

"Really?" you challenged him, "Because I'm pretty sure I can handle it better than you."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me yourself, coward," you joked and ran your hands over his shoulders. It is quite hilarious how quickly his attitude changed. A few gentle touches and he was like a putty, caving beneath your fingertips.

Even his mother was shocked. You were the first person to ever have a positive effect on Derek's behavior. Usually, he would push anyone who touched him away, and if he liked them, he was even rougher.

But with you, it was a different story. He loved it when you touched him. He melted in your hands, groaned when they massaged the knots out of his neck and purred when they brushed his hair back. He loved it, and it was the ultimate power play.

"We're not talking about this." he sighed, "It's a stupid idea. Besides, I need you to—"

"What do you need me to do?" You asked. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, then his jaw.

He hummed and reached a hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you down to meet him for a proper kiss. When you parted, he was looking at you with dark eyes, "You have no idea how much I fucking love you."

"I have an idea," you said, "But it's always nice to hear you say it."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," he said. He pulled you in for another kiss, this time letting his tongue trace along your bottom lip. He tasted like coffee, the spoiled brat kind that had an absurd amount of sugar in it and was probably worth more than a kidney. It was a taste that grew on you, just like the man.

You straddled his waist and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close while you deepened the kiss. His hands roamed down your body, resting on your hips, his thumbs running over the exposed skin of your midriff.

"How about some pancakes for our Mr. Problem Solver, hm?" you offered when you parted, "You know, a good ol' breakfast to help start your day."

He scoffed and kissed the corner of your lips, "What are you? My maid?"

"With how you act? It would be more appropriate to call me your mom," you teased.

"Okay, that's gross."

You chuckled and kissed his forehead, "So is your obsession with that… well, you know. Still, I endure."

He groaned and pushed you off his lap, "Don't remind me."

"Come on, you have a big day ahead of you." You took his hand and pulled him up, leading him out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen, "Let's go solve some problems, starting with the missing syrup."

He let you pull him along, not even bothering to make a snide remark.

It was one of the many things you loved about him. No matter how much he complained, he would let you have your way. It was an odd feeling, having someone who was so used to getting their way to bend to your will. But he never seemed to mind, especially not when you made it worthwhile.

In fact, you'd argue he enjoyed it. You enjoyed it. The thrill of being able to order him around, to have him follow every one of your commands, was invigorating. And Derek, the stubborn man that he was, found comfort in someone telling him what to do.

It was a match made in heaven.

[pandapple-dapple]

✎ 𝗧𝗶𝗺 𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲 - 𝗖𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰 𝗙𝗶𝗰 𝗥𝗲𝗰

Notes: Yes this is the second post in my blog. Am I proud of it? Definitely not. Am I still gonna do it cause I have nothing else to do? Yes. I hope some peeps out there might find it useful though so,,, yeah!

Also, make sure to read the tags beforehand!! Stay Safe!

[ T ] the space between by nephelax

Romantic Pairings: Timkon (Not the main focus right now though)

Description:

Red Robin is a name meant for greatness. It echoes of a kid that had decided to step up as a hero that Batman needed, of a teen that shouldered burden after burden without complaint—of someone that, despite the pain and the grief and the losses, held his head high. A genius, a leader, and one of the best detectives that the world has ever seen. Red Robin is a name with weight. Tim, a high schooler whose last living memories involve a bridge and murky waters, can’t measure up to that. The ghost that lurks rent free in Tim’s head with a familiar looking insignia cracked in half on his chest says otherwise. or, how Tim realizes that he’s trapped in a world that’s supposed to be fictional, discovers that he somehow body-snatched a future Robin, and finds himself caught in the Bats’ orbit despite all his efforts not to (and maybe, just maybe, gets a family along the way too).

[ T ] Banshee In A Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion. When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn. But most of all, Tim is alone. (If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

[ T ] Happy Families Kill People Too by raven_of_hydecastle

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

Jack Drake loves his wife and son, even if they're giant, fire breathing reptiles that would rather eat the mailman than pick up a package. That's fine, he can deal. It'd just be nice if they weren't so territorial. Then they could actually be on the same continent without trying to kill each other. Oh well, every family has their challenges. The Drakes' just happen to be more homicidal than most. Feat. Dragon Tim and Janet's loving (but murderous) relationship, Jack's ongoing attempts to be a good dad, and the Waynes getting increasingly concerned about Tim's home life after he becomes Robin.

[ T ] unchanging by birdbat

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

A lot of people tell Tim that he looks just like his mother. They share the same eye color and shape, often cold and calculating. The same sharp smiles and ghostly pale skin, and the same, lean body frames that could almost be described as delicate. One last thing they have in common is an orange pill bottle. The only difference is the name. (Or how parents pass things on to their children.)

[ T ] so much you don't know by konan_konan

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

“Enough chatter,” Tim barks. Green Lantern grumbles. “You want to get through this, right? Then settle down. Alright. Workplace injuries.” He pauses, squinting at the slide. “We’ve seen nearly a 3% reduction in injuries this past quarter. Our goal was 5%. Do better.” “Hey,” says Flash, “it’s a dangerous job!” “Do better,” he repeats. or: tim drake is totally a pro at this whole batman thing.

[ G ] Talk To Me by A_Canceled_Stamp 🔒 (only accessible to ao3 users)

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

Bruce and Tim have a long-overdue heart-to-heart

[ T ] Into the Deep Dark Night by siren_of_the_ocean

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

Timothy Jackson Drake drowns in Gotham Bay with not a bang, but a whimper. Luckily...or not, Gotham isn't quite ready to give him up yet. “Spirits of children and women drowned, my child. They live in the ponds that glisten like tar. The Rusalka."

[ G ] Half the Size and Twice the Fun by raven_of_hydecastle

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

Ra’s was a class A manipulator, but luckily Tim was suspicious of strange men in cosplay dictating his life’s purpose. He doubted anyone would make a clone out of their most “formidable opponent” for the sole purpose of being creepy. There had to be an ulterior motive… Although it was creepy. So creepy.   AKA Tim is a clone, Young Justice has a new BFF, and Batman's adoption tendency has been sledgehammered with Post-Ethiopia grief, which means the JLA is now in charge of a miniature Batman despite almost none of them being parents. This can't end badly, can it?

[ T ] Under A Parent's Wing by IzzyMRDB

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

When Tim found out that Dick Grayson was a gymnastics instructor in Bludhaven, he quickly signed up. After all, learning gymnastics from The Nightwing himself is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Dick Grayson is more concerned at the obvious signs of child abuse he sees in one of his students. AKA Dick Grayson, as a childcare worker, is a mandated reporter who knows how to recognize child abuse in his students. Tim Drake, after a lifetime of fear and confusion, learns to trust adults.

[ T ] Newton's Third Law (Actions Have Consequences) by Megaerackles

Romantic Pairings: None

Description:

Tim wasn’t sure just how he had managed to go from having everything completely under control and according to plan to being locked in a holding cell in the motherfucking Batcave while all of his secrets were slowly unspooled around him in a single afternoon. Well, he knew how—happy, protected Jason-who-had-no-clue-who-Tim-was had suddenly gotten all of the memories of angry, overprotective Big-Brother-Red-Hood-Jason and had proceeded to kidnap him, just because he was apparently a ‘hazard to himself and reality’. But it had all happened so quickly that he was having trouble wrapping his mind around this new complication. “You know, I’d finally gotten used to being an only child again."

Welp, that's all for now! Hope you enjoy them, I might make another fic rec in my spare time. < 3

[terrifyingly-bi]

Fool for You (Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader) (Part 3)

Summary: After what could only be called a minor disaster at your house with Billy storming off, you were left wondering if the situation was salvageable. Turns out you didn't have to worry.

Warnings/tags: flirty reader, confident reader, dating, billy is slowly turning into a mushy bf, have some steamy making out as a treat ;)

Wordcount: ~2,9k

A/N: Mooore! Mooore Billy because you asked for it and I also asked for it. Sorry bout the delay, got hit with big sad and wanted to be in a good mood when I wrote (am fine now, Billy content has cured me)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

『••✎••』

It had been a long and frustrating week. You'd had to deal with demanding parents and shitty kids almost every day, you'd sprained your wrist Wednesday afternoon when you kept a kid from cracking their skull open on the concrete, and Billy had barely spoken two words to you throughout the entire week.

Needless to say, you were in a bad mood when you got off work on Friday afternoon. It didn't help that you'd barely had a moment to yourself and had been on your feet all day.

That's why you thought that you deserved a dip before you went home. Adam was going to show up later that night and clean the pool, so you had almost an hour to hang around. You put your things aside and climbed into the cool water with a sigh.

You pushed off the ladder and floated out on your back, staring up at the darkening sky and the handful of clouds soaring above you. It was a perfect summer night. Just a slight breeze, not too warm, and no pesky bugs. It was easy to wind down and relax once you got into the water.

For a while, you stayed still and floating, enjoying feeling weightless and listening to the soothing sounds of the water pump and the slight splashing of water. You let your eyes fall shut as you let out another - more relaxed - sigh. Working at the pool did have its perks after all...

Your eyes opened when you sensed movement in the water, but before you had time to react properly a pair of arms scooped you up. You yelped and flailed your arms around when Billy picked you up and held you against his chest.

"I'm pretty sure there's a rule against swimming after hours," he said. He didn't sound mad, and the smile on his face was unusually soft and playful.

"You scared the hell out of me," you said. Your arms were around his neck, although you were still partially floating, and his arms kept you pressed tightly against him. "A warning would have been nice."

"I called out to you. You didn't respond. I just did my lifeguarding duties," Billy said.

You looked at him for a long moment. He had barely spoken to you for the past few days and now he decided to get in the pool with you. "Well... I'm glad you're here, actually," you said truthfully.

His expression was hard to read. "Yeah, I'm glad I caught you actually," he mumbled and averted his gaze. "I'm sorry about Friday. I wasn't expecting all that. Guess I chickened out."

"There's nothing to apologize for," you said.

Billy had clearly not expected that, just as you had not expected an apology. "Are you free tomorrow night?" He asked.

"For you? Of course," you said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Date me,” he said. 

“You could at least ask,” you said with a smile.

He rolled his eyes. “Will you go on a date with me?”

"Only because you asked so nicely," you said. You were wary about being too dismissive of him. He'd gotten up and ran the last time you'd talked, and it still hurt a little bit.

But Billy seemed to harbor no ill feelings. He smirked at you. "I can be nice when I want to," he said. "Problem is it's hard to find people I want to be nice to."

"Am I one of them?" You asked.

His smirk turned affectionate. "It just happens that you are," he murmured. "So what about it? What is it people do for dates? Go to the movies? Make out in the doorway?"

"I'm down for that. Maybe I'll even... what was it you called it... put something pretty on for you."

"Just another reason to take you out," he said. He adjusted his grip, dropping one of your legs and sliding his other hand from our back to grab it again. "Have I told you that you look good in this?" His fingers teased at the hem of your swimsuit - where your hip met your leg.

You took the hint and wrapped your legs around him, putting your hands on his shoulders, it was easy to float around in the pool, and the water was a cool contrast to his warm skin. "I've come to like it," you admitted.

"I think it fits you perfectly." He hitched you up a little higher. "Makes me mad when people look too long."

You chuckled. "Yet you prance around looking like this?" You gave his broad chest a pointed look before glancing at his face to gauge his reaction.

"It would be a shame to cover it," Billy said.

Unfortunately, you could only agree. You couldn't help but pout at the fact that you had to share. You certainly weren't the jealous type. But...

"Don't like sharing, baby?"

A shiver ran down your spine and you felt something stir within you. You shifted awkwardly. As quick as you were sometimes, your head was too full of fluff to come up with a witty comeback. "I... uh..."

"What's got your tongue all in a knot?" Billy murmured. His smirk was back and you could swear that you'd never seen anyone look so pleased with themselves. "Need me to sort it out?"

"Maybe," you said.

"Really?" He clearly hadn't anticipated your sudden shyness, and the meek 'maybe' had obviously thrown him off.

"Are you going to kiss me or not?" You asked.

He grinned. “I thought girls didn’t kiss before at least the second date,” he pointed out. “Isn’t there some unwritten rule?”

You leaned closer. “I don’t much care for those rules,” you said.

“Whatever you say, baby,” he murmured. He leaned closer to and your eyes fluttered close in anticipation.

“Ahem.”

You and Billy both looked up only to see Adam standing at the edge of the pool with his hands on his hips. Billy offered him a sheepish smile. “What’s up, buddy? You’re early today.”

Adam sighed. “I thought I’d get the cleaning done early today. I sure hope this isn’t what you two do at the end of all of your shifts. I don’t want to know what I pull out of that filter, and this,” he gestured at you and Billy, “is knowing.”

“Come on, Adam,” you said. “We were just fooling around. Aren’t we your favorite coworkers?”

“Right?” Billy added. But when Adam didn’t budge, he gave a long sigh. “Fine,” he said and adjusted his grip on you, tossing you up to throw you over his shoulder. You yelped in protest and reached for something to grab. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here.”

Adam ushered you out of the pool and you hurriedly went to change into your normal jeans and t-shirt. Billy waited for you by his car, leaning against it while he smoked. The grin he wore made it obvious that the two of you were more than okay.

“Let’s get you home, babygirl. I wanna see you all dolled up tomorrow.”

-

There was something special about seeing him in a loose-fitted shirt - tastefully unbuttoned - and tight pants. You'd grown so used to seeing him in his red swim trunks that you were almost shocked to see him stroll into the theatre looking like a movie star right off one of the posters.

He turned heads at the pool, as he always had, but people had to do double takes just to make sure that it was really the Billy Hargrove sauntering up to you.

"Hey," he said cooly and looked you up and down. "Looking good."

"Likewise," you said, taking a moment to appreciate him in a sexy red shirt - accessorized with a chain around his neck to bring attention to his muscular chest. "I'm a little surprised. For a moment I thought I was being stood up."

Billy shrugged. "Hair wasn't going to fix itself," he said nonchalantly. "And maybe I was having cold feet."

You smiled at him. "I'm glad you changed your mind, and I love the hair."

He smirked at you before he nodded over to the ticket booth. "Are we doing this or what?"

You got tickets to the next screening, stocked up with the appropriate snacks, and went to find your seats. Although he claimed it was his first outing like this, he was surprisingly smooth about it. You were almost afraid to ask, but he noticed your quizzical look by himself.

"I'm making an effort," he said. "Just take it, Y/N."

You chuckled when you sat down, holding the popcorn in your lap. "Alright. You just... You are full of surprises. This is a proper date. I'm feeling a little flustered."

"You'll be feeling all kinds of things later," he mumbled when he sat down next to you. His usual comment somehow made the entire thing even better. At least he wasn't forcing this entire night to be something he wasn't.

"I can't wait," you whispered back as the lights dimmed.

Billy flashed you a final wink before he turned to look at the large screen.

Throughout the intro of the movie - which you’d already forgotten the name of - you snuck glances over at your date, who seemed to make a semi-serious effort to keep his attention on the screen. His mouth twisted into a sly smirk when he glanced over at you and 

The night went from a normal movie date to a friendly competition of who could employ the most seduction tactics.

Barely ten minutes into the movie, Billy employed the age-old tactic of faking a yawn to drape his arm around you. You weren't going to let that slide, though, making sure to grab for popcorn every time he did just to slide your fingers over his.

It was a fun but frustrating hour and a half. You don't think that either of you got much out of the movie and its plot. By the time the final climax of the movie was playing out, you and Billy were tangled up in one another, arms around each other as you tried to make the other tick.

When the lights finally began to dim back on, he grinned at you. "Is that all you've got?" he asked.

"I'm just getting started," you said.

Billy's grin grew wider as he slowly untangled himself from you and got up, offering his hand to you. "Let's get this show on the road."

The two of you decided to go on a walk. Neither of you was ready to go home just yet, and it was hard to be as close as you wanted while one of you was driving. The weather was pleasant and not too warm, and since it was summer it was still somewhat bright out. 

“So how’s this dating thing treating you?” You asked playfully when you veered off the street onto a smaller path. “Is it as bad as you’d feared?”

Billy snorted. Taking the cigarette from between his lips and flicking a small pilar of ash off before replacing it. “I’ve been on dates before, you know,” he said. “They’re fine, I guess. More fun when the girl isn’t some prude.” He grinned at you.

You gently slapped him on the arm. “What’s wrong with being a prude?” You asked. “And I can’t help that I’m a bit… handsy.”

“Handsy, huh?” Billy asked slyly. He looked down the path and took a few short drags on his cigarette.

You liked him like that. Quiet but not distant. He’d made it more than obvious that he listened - and remembered - the things that you talked about. Which made you wonder what else he remembered. “Listen,” you said, squeezing Billy’s hand. 

He looked down at you, trying not to exhale a cloud of smoke at you. “I’m listening,” he said, turning and giving a slow exhale. His adam’s apple bobbed when he took another drag. 

“You said you like honesty, yeah? How about we share some right now?” You suggested, dragging him over to the nearest bench. 

You sat down and Billy slid into the seat next to you. "Tell me about when we first met," you said. "What did you think about me?" 

Billy snorted. Getting him to open up - especially about feelings - wasn't easy, but you were determined to get him to share his thoughts with you. He put his arm around you to buy time, but you weren’t having it.

"Well?" 

"Ladies first." He said and cleared his throat. 

"No, you go first," you said, leaning further back on the bench, watching him as he smirked lazily at you. "And it better be true," you added with a grin.

Billy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine," he relented when his gaze fell back onto you. "When I first saw you, I saw a plain Jane. Little did I know, I'd have my metaphorical butt kicked by your confidence." He reached out and poked you on the nose. "Nice butt, too."

Chuckling, you tilted your head to the side. "You really thought I was plain?"

"You told me to be honest," he said with a shrug. "Now you go."

You pouted your lips. "When I first saw you, I saw a Californian dream," you confessed. "And the moment you opened your mouth, you crushed that dream into tiny pieces."

"Hey!"

"You said it yourself," you laughed. "You're an asshole."

"You're still here, aren't you?" He moved the arm he had around you back and forth. "A man can change. Or pretend to."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. He had changed considerably since you met him, but not his ways. He was still cocky and rude at times, but he was much more honest and seemed to think a little bit before speaking.

"I like you as you are," you confessed in a moment of mushy weakness. "I don't like having to tiptoe around a guy. I like being honest, and myself."

Billy smiled softly at you. "I like it when you're being yourself," he murmured and ran his hand over your cheek.

You looked at one another, admiring the affection and admiration in each other's eyes. Your gaze briefly darted down to his plush lips. "What was that you said about kisses on dates?"

"Yeah..." he breathed. "I don't think I can wait until the second date to kiss you."

"Me neither," you said, leaning closer to close the distance between you.

Your lips met and the slight tingle of static that sparked on your lips wasn’t nearly enough to dissuade any of you to pull back. Billy’s tongue tasted like the sugary drinks he’d had at the movies, and the warmth of his breath on your skin made your head spin. 

Billy gave a slight sigh when you ran your tongue over his bottom lip, flicking it playfully before sucking it into your mouth. One of his hands found its way around your throat, his fingers gently squeezing the back of your neck as he pressed you closer. 

You eagerly scooted closer, nearly planting yourself in his lap as the already steamy makeout session turned even hotter.

A light moan left you when his other hand ran up your thigh, gripping the supple flesh as if he was afraid he’d drop you. Two could play that game, was all you could think, reaching and taking a firm grip of the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer and making sure that there was no space between the two of you as your lips moved as if synchronized.

There was a familiar warmth growing in the pit of your stomach, radiating downwards as your heart beat faster and your breath became more labored. Part of you was embarrassed that you’d gotten so worked up, and another part of you wanted more.

Just as you were about to say something undoubtedly horny and probably desperate, the sound of footsteps sounded behind you and a loud click made you flinch.

The light was blinding, and you and Billy both squinted to protect your eyes from the unwelcome sting. "Alright, lovebirds. Break it up. This is a public space."

Billy snorted as he shielded his eyes from the light of the flashlight, looking over at the police officer standing a few yards away. "Aw, come on, Phil," he said, feigning innocence. "We were just chatting."

"Yes, you talk so well with your tongue down her throat," the officer said. "Get a room, or do I need to call your parents?"

You couldn't help but giggle as Billy tried to talk the two of you out of trouble. Billy had a way with words, that was undeniable and it was fun to see him try and charm his way out of the officer's ire.

"Let's get going, Billy," you said. "Privacy does sound kind of nice."

Both Billy and officer Callahan turned and looked at you. "Is does?" they said in unison.

"I mean..." Phil cleared his throat, suddenly looking flustered. "You two run along. I don't want to catch the two of you sucking face anywhere else tonight."

"Sure you don't," you murmured with a smirk, which only seemed to make him even more flustered. You turned and looked at Billy as you got up. "Shall we?"

"Hell yes," he said, taking your hand and hopping up from the bench. "Good night, Phil."

Phil didn't reply and instead hurried off muttering something about teenagers and decency under his breath. Soon the light from his flashlight faded into the night.

『••✎••』

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent @maackiimoo @joeyfilth @frogtits1 @wh0reforbucknasty

[overflowingteacupoflove]

writing chapter 1 of Pool House in science class

[overflowingteacupoflove]

I'm gonna start posting just little things about loser!reader and fratboy!Chris and I need yall to keep them in your brain because they will come up in the series.

[overflowingteacupoflove]

Tid-bits ✎ this series includes mature content such as sensitive topics,substance abuse, sex, angst, and more. Read with that in mind.

Chapter 1 ✎ Pool House.

"You're just too much." Is the last thing your ex-boyfriend said before you're off, stumbling through the crowds of party goers, Sorority girls in short dresses, frat guys in snapbacks, random kids in bright clothes that hurt your eyes. The entire crowd smells like sweat and achohol, concoctions mixed in red solo cups, sloshing liquid out onto the grass. The smell of it burns your nose. You stumble into someone and their drink spills on the front of your dress, whatever it's old anyway and you don't even like dresses so you shouldn't really care.

"You're just too much." Is the only thing that plays in your head when you smack into the door of a small shed. When you open it you're hit with the scent of chlorine, mildew, and plastic. You tiptoe through the shed, through buckets filled with pool toys, towels that stink of mildew, and pool noodles thrown about on the floor. Almost slamming your head into the wall stepping on a pool noodle, the styrofoam of the neon green floating help, crunching and sliding out from under your sneakered feet, you gasp as you steady yourself.

"Fuck." You groan, sitting down on a threadbare couch. Tears are slipping down your face, slow and then faster until you can't stop them or wipe them away. Gosh you swear to yourself that you're never going to date again. "Too much? I'm not too much." You grumble to yourself. The sound of music is blasting "Bourgeoisieses" by Conan Gray playing from the cheap speakers you're sure some frat brother got from the Walmart 3 years ago because its mostly staticy. It drowns out your words.

The music gets louder and a flood of light comes in from the door as someone shoulders it open and in comes a fratboy, red snapback on his head and an oversized red and gray jersey looking shirt on his torso. He looks seriously confused when he turns around to see you, teary-eyed, snot dripping down your face, harsh breathes forcing through your lungs.

"Oh-shit I didnt know that someone- that you- I didnt know anyone was in here. I thought it was a bathroom" He says gently, like you're a wounded animal who you need to be gentle with or they'll lunge.

"I-I-Its's fi-fine." You stutter through sobs and gasps, wiping at your face with your hands. They get sticky from the snot and tears drying on your palm in the creases as you fist up your hand. The boy looks concerned, his eyebrows drawn together and a soft frown on his lips.

"You okay? You don't...I mean I don't mean to sound rude but you don't look okay." He says rather gently as he's tiptoeing around the clutter on the floor to get to you. He reaches you and barely puts his hand on your shoulder before you're hunched over and throwing up, all over his airforces. "Oh, okay. Okay, yep- uh-huh, let it all out." He grimaces, patting the back of your head as you sputter and cough, spitting off to the side. "I think its time to go back to your dorm, yeah? No more drinks, party girl."

"Did I throw up on y'shoes? m'sorry, dude. I'll- uhhh- buy ya new ones." You slur sitting up and wiping the back off your mouth with your sleeve. "Also I think I jus' pissed myself. Jus' a lil bit."

"Yeah well that's what happens when you throw up. Vomiting creates sudden stress on the opening of the bladder, leading to leakage." He explains while hauling you up to your feet and hooking an arm around your waist.

"Nerd." You huff as you lean on him, head on his shoulder. "Doctor in training." He corrects as he walks, and you stumble along beside him, out of the Pool House.

"But you're a fratboy?"

"That I am." He nods, stopping to mumble something to a friend of his before continuing to walk, practically dragging you now. "That sounds illegal." That makes him laugh and you smile at the small victory. "It's not, party girl. Trust me."

You walk in silence for a while until he reaches his car and helps you into the front seat, buckling you up, and making sure you don't fall over, before closing the door and getting into the driver's seat. "Did you see me crying?" "Which dorm do you live in?" Your words overlap eachother and there's a bit of an awkward silence as you tell him which dorm house you live in and wait for the response to your question.

"Yeah, I did. What was it about?" You flush in embarrassment because this random doctor in training, fratboy, Jeep driver has seen you cry, throw up, and maybe pee yourself a little all in one night and you don't even know his name. "I don't wanna talk about it." You mumble, rubbing the tip of your nose with the knuckle of your finger.

"That's fine. I'm Chris by the way." Chris smiles at you before turning his gaze back to his phone to pull up the GPS and then start the car. "Y/N."

"Cool name, party girl." You smile softly, "Thanks."

You're back at your dorm, the car ride was mostly silent, random music playing low on the radio. You felt to awkward to try and say anything so you didn't, sitting with your hands wrung together or tugging at a loose string on your dress. Chris got you out of the car with some difficulty because your dress got caught on the arm rest of the seat and you tried to fix it yourself but only got yourself more tangled up. He had to hook an arm around your shoulder to hold you still while he fixed it Chris got it unhooked with a simple "See?" as he pulled it off the arm rest.

"We should take the stairs, it's way faster." You explain as you walk without Chris and only with minor difficulty because you're rather sobered up from the activities of the night. He shakes his head but follows anyway only to watch you take one step up the stairs and fall flat on your face. He winces and hauls you back up,checking for any injuries of anything, and then drags you to go take the elevator.

Once in your room he helps take off your shoes and get you into bed. "Hey, wait, wait. I needa get your number so I can buy you those shoes." You protest, grabbing Chris's arm, as he turns around. He turns back around with his brows furrowed and a frown gracing his lips. "You dont need to, I have more shoes." He reassures and pats your hand.

"Just give me your number, doctor fratboy." You sigh and reach around for your phone in the bag that's been thrown on the bed. He huff out a laugh at the nickname and types his number into your phone before handing it back to you. Chris watches as you giggle and type something, before closing your phone and letting go of his arm.

"Okay well text me in the morning, just a check up y'know. I'l talk to you later, party girl." You nod at his words before rolling over onto your side and closing your eyes. Chris, rubs your shoulder before he's reaching into his pocket and pulling out a granola bar, he's always prepared, and maybe he wanted a little snack, but he thinks you're going to need the snack more than he does.

He pulls the covers up over you and goes to the bathroom to place a trashcan by your bed, just incase. Then he leaves, turning off all the lights, except for the lamp by your bed, and closes the door behind him.

Lo's post-writing clarity-wagging my tail rn

[overflowingteacupoflove]

yeah I think pool house is gonna have like 24 chapters instead of 12😭

[overflowingteacupoflove]

guys I gonna lose my mind if I can't figure out how the world to get through this middle part of chapter one of pool house. litch someone HELP ME PLEASEEEE

[overflowingteacupoflove]

"This series is called Dugout!" (Pool House)

"What?"

"Its called Pool House."

Tid-bits ✎ A fratboy and a loser meet in a Pool House during a party. How is he supposed to move on from what he saw? How is she supposed to move on from the embarrassment? What are they supposed to do with eachother?

Tid-bit ✎ Each Chapter is titled after a lyric from a song from the album "When we were friends" by The Backseat Lovers (This series is based off of these songs i recommended listening to the album when reading)

·˚ ༘ Chapter 1 : "Pool House"

·˚ ༘ Chapter 2

·˚ ༘ Chapter 3

·˚ ༘ Chapter 4

·˚ ༘ Chapter 5

·˚ ༘ Chapter 6

·˚ ༘ Chapter 7

·˚ ༘ Chapter 8

·˚ ༘ Chapter 9

·˚ ༘ Chapter 10

·˚ ༘ Chapter 11

·˚ ༘ Chapter 12

✎Do you wanna know what I think?·˚ ༘

(collections of blurbs that happen as filler inbetween each chapter)

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